Barton Luck
by KaeCee-616
Summary: Clint was either the luckiest or the unluckiest person in the world, it was hard to tell. A collection of Clint-whump one-shots initially for Whumptober 2019.
1. Shaky Hands

**Okay, so this is a very overdue installment for whumptober. I wanted to have this out by last week, but then I got sick, and then I had work, and about ten excuses later here we are! I have no schedule for when each of these will come out. I'm hoping to keep to a semi-weekly uploade rate, but no promises. As for now, enjoy!**

* * *

**Whumptober Day #1**

_Shaky Hands_

* * *

'Widow, you got incoming.' Clint reached back for another arrow and took aim.

What was supposed to be a simple infiltration mission had turned into a free-for-all. Fury had sent the pair to the Brodeur Manor in Paris. The Brodeur's were a particularly wealthy family, but how they acquired said wealth could only be described as shady at best. Known for their trafficking of drugs and weapons to some of the biggest mobsters in Europe, it was just a matter of time before they ended up on SHIELD's radar.

Clint was stood by the railing on the second floor, looking down at the ballroom. Around him, five thugs lay with arrows implanted in their chests. Blood soaked into the cream-coloured carpet. Natasha stood in the centre of the ballroom, surrounded by a group of Brodeur's bodyguards he'd hired for his evening event. She wrapped her legs around one of their necks and dropped him to the floor. Another man approached her from behind and immediately fell, an arrow poking through his heart.

'Hawk, go after Brodeur, he's probably left the building by now. I'll take care of the stragglers.' Natasha rolled across the ballroom floor and fired a Widow's Bite, incapacitating another guard.

'You sure?' Clint fired more arrows in rapid succession.

'I'll be fine. Brodeur's our real target here.'

Clint huffed. There was no way he was winning this one. 'Watch your six, okay?'

'You too.' She stole a glance his way and nodded.

Clint stowed his bow on his back and dashed towards the nearest exit. Brodeur had most likely left through his emergency exit in his office. With any luck, Clint would be able to corner him before he could make it to the street, where there was undoubtedly a getaway car ready and waiting.

Brodeur's escape route was locked with a key code. Clint rolled his eyes and pulled out his SHIELD-issued phone. He scanned the buttons for the correct four-digits and slid through the door as quietly as possible. A long dark corridor ran down the back of the manor. A dim light shone from the other end and, without seeing them, Clint could already hear Brodeur arguing with his assistant.

'Who the hell are these people and how did they find out what we're up to?' Brodeur said.

'They're Hawkeye and Black Widow, Monsieur,' his assistant said. 'They used to be renowned assassins back in the day. They went off the radar for a while and apparently work with the Avengers now.'

'So, they've gone soft,' Brodeur said. 'Those fools should have no trouble taking them both down then.'

'Soft?' Both men turned in surprise. 'I wouldn't say that.'

Clint stood before them; arrow knocked in his bow. Brodeur's assistant dropped his hand to his firearm and went to turn the safety off. Clint's arrow reached his neck before he had the chance. Brodeur moved to grab his gun.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you.' Clint smiled; another arrow already loaded. 'My orders are to bring you back alive, just for a chat, then you get to walk away none the wiser.'

'Are you crazy?' Brodeur said. 'I'm not telling you anything.'

'Don't you have a wife and a little girl? It'd be a shame if she were to grow up without her daddy. I really don't want to kill you, Brodeur.'

'I'm not going to give you a choice.' He reached for the gun on his belt and pointed it forward.

Clint let the arrow loose and it planted itself dead centre in Brodeur's chest. The man fell, coughing and spluttering as blood leaked from his mouth. He watched the life fade from his eyes and crouched down at his side, placing two fingers on his neck.

'Dammit,' he said when no pulse was found. 'Widow, I found Brodeur, he's dead. You all wrapped up on your end?' Clint stood and waited for a response. When none came, he grabbed another arrow from his quiver and ran back down the corridor. 'Widow, do you copy?' Still no response. 'Shit.'

He burst through Brodeur's emergency door and ran back out of the office. He leaned over the railing and stared at the ballroom in horror. Two guards were dragging Natasha by her arms, leaving a thick trail of blood in their wake. 'Widow!'

In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best idea to let his presence be known. Gunfire banged up in his direction, but Clint was too focused on his partner to worry about where the bullets hit. He jumped from the railing and fired two arrows. The guards were dead before he landed. Clint dropped his bow and knelt at Natasha's side.

'Tasha,' he said, forgoing their codenames. 'Tasha, come on, say something.' He squeezed her shoulder whilst scanning her body for possible bullet wounds. The black leather of her uniform masked it well, but eventually, he found a small hole dripping red, just to the left of her belly button. He pressed his hand over the wound and patted his other hand around her back, stopping when he found the exit would. _At least the bullet's out_, he thought, pressing down with more force. Natasha didn't so much as wince. 'Dammit Nat, what happened?' Blood slipped through his fingertips and snaked down to his wrists. There was too much; if he didn't get her out of here soon, she'd bleed out.

It then occurred to Clint that he had yet to update SHIELD on their status. With both his hands now coated in blood, he mumbled a curse and looked back to Natasha's slack features. 'Look, Tash, I have to take my hand off this for one second to call SHIELD. You gotta promise me you won't bleed out, okay?' He waited, every ounce of him hoping she might respond. She didn't. 'Okay.' He slowly pulled his hand away from her stomach and reached down to his belt. With shaky hands, he fumbled with his phone until he managed to dial the number. Someone answered, but the words didn't register.

'This is Agent Barton, ID fifty-two Uniform eighty-four Victor nine Charlie, requesting immediate medical evac from the Brodeur Manor.'

'We've got your location, Barton,' the woman on the line said. 'What's your status?'

'Romanoff took a gunshot to her stomach. Through and through. She's lost two, maybe three pints of blood.'

'Medical is on its way. Keep pressure on the injury until then.'

Clint didn't bother responding. He hung up and tossed the phone aside, returning his hand to Natasha's stomach. 'Nat, you gotta stay with me okay? Laura will have my head if I let you die on my watch. Just stay with me Tash, alright? Stay with me.'

The rest of their time at the manor was a blur. Medical showed up at some point and pushed Clint aside, much to his distress. He watched them insert needle after needle into her body and load her on a stretcher. As they carted her away, Clint looked down at his trembling hands. Not a single part of them had been spared of the deep red staining, and the excess slithered down his forearms and dripped onto the floor around him.

A member of the medical team returned to the ballroom upon noticing Clint's absence. She placed an arm on his shoulder and lightly pushed him out of the manor and towards the jet. If she noticed the tears streaking down his flushed cheeks, she didn't say anything.

* * *

Steve was in a meeting with Fury when the news about Natasha had spread through the Triskelion. He'd taken the first jet over to SHIELD's Paris base and hurried to the medical bay. He sucked in a breath when he first saw Clint. The assassin was pale, and leaned against the wall, staring down at his hands that were covered with what Steve could only assume was Natasha's dried blood. His whole body quivered like a drug addict going through withdrawal. Steve knew better than to startle Clint with physical contact; he slowly approached him and lightly coughed to signal his arrival. 'Clint?'

A glazed pair of eyes slowly met his. 'Steve? What are you doing here?' He clenched and unclenched his hands.

'I heard about Natasha. Is there any news?'

Clint swallowed. 'No. They uhh… They still have her in surgery.'

Steve studied Clint closely. He was clearly in shock; shaking, unfocused, stuttering. What the hell happened on their mission? 'Clint, are you okay?'

'Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Natasha's the one who was shot.' He turned his back to Steve and gestured in the direction of the operating theatre, and that's when Steve saw it.

It was hard to tell through his SHIELD uniform, but a large stain covered most of Clint's back. There was a small rip in his clothing just below his shoulder blade. _Does Clint not even realise he's in pain? _he thought. He put a hand on Clint's back only for him to groan and flinch away.

'What the hell, Steve?'

'Clint, you've been shot.' Steve showed him his hand, now smothered in red.

'I… what?' Clint exhaled and moved his arm to his back. A spike of pain spread through his body as he pressed his fingers to the wound site. He pulled his hand back and saw the fresh blood trail wrapping itself around the dried blood of Natasha. He continued to stare at the bloody mess and swayed on his feet. 'Oh.'

Steve launched forward to catch the archer before he could smack his head on the tile flooring. He pulled him onto his lap and tapped at his cheek. 'Clint? Hey, can you hear me?'

A quiet whimper escaped his lips and his head lolled to the side. 'T-Tasha.'

'Natasha's going to be fine, Clint. Let's worry about you for now.' Steve forced on a smile and squeezed Clint's shoulder. When his eyelids fell shut, Steve turned to look back down the hallway. 'I need some help down here!'

Doctors and Nurses rushed to their aid. Clint was lifted onto a hospital bed and wheeled off into another operating theatre, leaving Steve alone in the hallway, his teammate's blood printed onto his clothing.

. 'Steve? What are you doing here?' He clenched and unclenched his hands.

'I heard about Natasha. Is there any news?'

Clint swallowed. 'No. They uhh… They still have her in surgery.'

Steve studied Clint closely. He was clearly in shock; shaking, unfocused, stuttering. What the hell happened on their mission? 'Clint, are you okay?'

'Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Natasha's the one who was shot.' He turned his back to Steve and gestured in the direction of the operating theatre, and that's when Steve saw it.

It was hard to tell through his SHIELD uniform, but a large stain covered most of Clint's back. There was a small rip in his clothing just below his shoulder blade. _Does Clint not even realise he's in pain? _he thought. He put a hand on Clint's back only for him to groan and flinch away.

'What the hell, Steve?'

'Clint, you've been shot.' Steve showed him his hand, now smothered in red.

'I… what?' Clint exhaled and reached his arm to his back. A spike of pain spread through his body as he pressed his fingers to the wound site. He pulled his hand back and saw the fresh blood trail wrapping itself around the dried blood of Natasha. He continued to stare at the bloody mess and swayed on his feet. 'Oh.'

Steve launched forward to catch the archer before he could smack his head on the tile flooring. He pulled him onto his lap and tapped at his cheek. 'Clint? Hey, can you hear me?'

A quiet whimper escaped his lips and his head lolled to the side. 'T-Tasha.'

'Natasha's going to be fine, Clint. Let's worry about you for now.' Steve forced on a smile and squeezed Clint's shoulder. When his eyelids fell shut, Steve turned to look back down the hallway. 'I need some help down here!'

Doctors and Nurses rushed to their aid. Clint was lifted onto a hospital bed and wheeled off into another operating theatre, leaving Steve alone in the hallway, his teammate's blood printed onto his clothing.

* * *

Something was squeezing his hand; it felt oddly familiar. As he eased his way back into consciousness, he traced his thumb across the foreign object until he realised it was another hand, a smaller, more delicate hand. The fingers, while rough, still not as calloused as his own. The hand was warm and offered great comfort to his muddled brain. He was ready to roll over a drift off to sleep when a voice pulled him back out.

'Clint?'

So, it was Nat holding his hand. That was strange. Natasha didn't exactly show affection for anyone. The only exception was when a mission had gone horribly wro-

Clint jerked awake and squeezed Natasha's hand as tight as he was able. The mission, the blood, Natasha had been hurt. He tried to push himself into a sitting position and grunted when pain tore through his back.

'Easy, Clint. You're alright. I'm alright. You can stand down.' Natasha's albeit soothing voice did very little to calm the archer.

Clint finally pulled his eyes open and turned to meet her concerned gaze. He examined her carefully. She was sat in a wheelchair and, while still quite pale, some colour had returned to her features. She still wore her hospital gown, and Clint would bet good money that she was supposed to be resting. Sure enough, he glanced to the door and saw Steve through the glass, talking to a seemingly frustrated nurse. Clint couldn't help the smile that sneaked onto his face.

Natasha must have noticed this and audibly exhaled, leaning back in her chair. 'Only you would completely miss a gunshot wound.'

'Are you okay?' he croaked.

'I'm fine, better off than you are.' She reached to his bedside table and grabbed a cup of water, pushing the straw towards him. 'Drink.'

'Thanks.' The water felt like heaven as it flowed down his raw throat. 'How long was I out?'

'A little over two days. The bullet was lodged in your back for a while, caused an infection. You almost gave ol' Cap a heart attack when you passed out in front of him.'

'Oops.'

'Yeah, idiot. _'Oops.'_'

'I'm sorry I didn't get to you in time.' He looked down to her stomach, the image of her blood soaking his hands lingered in the back of his mind.

'You did get to me in time. A quick blood transfusion and a couple of stitches, and I was set. Of course, you would have known this a lot sooner if you bothered to pay attention to your own health once in a while.' She released his hand. 'You don't get to do that, Barton. You got off easy this time, but if something worse had happened and I-' She stumbled on her words and took a deep breath to compose herself once again. 'You should have been there when I woke up, not Steve telling me that your usual luck had struck. Because then it would have been on me, and I have too much blood on my hands already to add yours to that list.'

'I'm sorry, Tash.'

'Well, you should be. Now scooch over because I should be in bed, but someone has to make sure you don't pull another idiotic stunt.'

Clint smiled and shuffled himself over, wincing at the stabbing pain in his back. He held a hand out to Natasha and she pulled herself from the wheelchair and slumped down at his side. She lowered her head so that it rested against his and closed her eyes. 'Getting shot sucks.'

'Damn right.' Clint sighed and relaxed into her shoulder.

Steve returned half an hour later to find the two assassins fast asleep, curled up to one another like a pair of kittens, hands interlocked with one another.

* * *

**I did it! Day one of whumptober is done... ten days late, but better late than never right! I'm still new to writing Avengers stuff so I apologise if anyone was a bit ooc.**

**See you in the next one! ;)**


	2. Explosion

**Ayyy I actually kept to my schedule, enjoy!**

* * *

**Whumptober Day #2**

_Explosion_

* * *

Clint was quickly growing frustrated at the sheer amount of HYDRA bases they had confronted this week alone. With SHIELD gone, he'd hoped it would lead to more time at home, but his Avengers commitments had proved otherwise. If there was any time to regret joining this team, now was that time.

'Barton, you've got two guys headed your way,' Stark said through the comms.

'Got it.' Clint knocked an arrow and fired into the darkness. He fired a second time and heard two pained grunts as the HYDRA members fell. It was days like this that Clint didn't actually mind his hearing aids. The lighting system had been compromised shortly after their confrontation began; most of the team were relying on Stark's thermal imaging and their own sixth senses to guide them through the battle. Clint had simply dialled up his aids a notch and let his extraordinary aim do the work.

The battle wasn't nearly as difficult as their briefing had described, though nothing ever was when you had a demi-god on your side. Clint was just about wrapped up on his end when a loud panicked voice came through the comms.

'Shit, guys!' Stark said. 'They've rigged the place to explo-'

That was the last thing Clint remembered.

* * *

Steve rolled a piece of debris off his chest and gasped, his muscles twisted and throbbed with the movement. He pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned against a large chunk of rubble. One hand went to the ground, searching for his shield, while another pressed against his comm. A concerned voice was shouting through the line, but the harsh ringing in his ears muffled the sound.

'Guys, are you okay? Someone respond!' It was Bruce. He was stationed back in the Quinjet, observing the battle from a safe distance.

'Banner,' Steve said.

'Steve! What happened? Is it a code green?'

'HYDRA planted a bomb; we might be trapped in here. Would you be able to control Hulk long enough to dig us out?'

'That's too risky. The whole place could come down.'

'Yeah, I figured it'd be a long shot.' Steve groaned and struggled to his feet. 'Anyone else on comms?'

'I've got Red,' Stark spoke up. 'Knocked her head on some brick, but otherwise okay.'

'I'm fine, Shell-Head,' Natasha's slurred voice responded.

'I too am faring well,' Thor said. 'I may be able to secure safe passage from the warehouse.'

'Good. Get to work,' Steve said. 'Stark, you still got your suit up and running?'

'Already mapping a safe route to Thor's location. We'll meet you on the way, stay put.'

Steve nodded to himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but Natasha's voice halted everyone in their tracks.

'Where's Clint?'

The team fell silent, each waiting for the archer to respond. When nothing came, a spark of adrenaline charged through Steve and suddenly everything kicked into high gear.

'Bruce, get the jet's med kit and meet us outside the warehouse. Stark?'

'Already on it, Cap.'

'Good. Thor, keep working on that exit. Romanoff-'

'I'm going with Stark.'

'Natasha-'

'I'm going.'

Steve sighed. Try as he might, he knew her mind wouldn't be changed. 'Alright. Be careful.'

* * *

He'd scream if he had the energy. Dust clouded his eyesight, not that he had any hope of seeing anyway. Clint lay his head on the ground as a warm substance trickled down his cheek. Everything hurt. He could only just wriggle the fingers of his left hand, but a giant slab of brick and plaster pressed against most of his arm and was rapidly numbing the rest of the limb. He didn't dare try to move his legs; the slightest motion could send an avalanche of debris rolling down onto his head.

Clint wheezed as more dust clogged his throat and nose, or at least he thought he had. His world had gone silent, no doubt his aids had broken in the explosion. He closed his eyes and his thoughts immediately went to his teammates. Were they all okay? Stark should be fine right? He had his suit after all, and Cap was genetically enhanced to deal with this stuff. Thor, he had no doubt would come out unscathed, but Natasha was just as human as he was, and what about Bruce? Was the Hulk rampaging through the wreckage? His team could be in trouble and Clint was lying on the ground worrying about his ears! He had to help them. With his one free arm, he reached out for a large chunk of rubble and tried to pull himself forward. A sudden vibration from behind stopped him.

Oh yeah, he was buried.

Another dust cloud and fragments of brick tumbled down, and a fit of coughs and splutters was quick to follow. He must have blacked out shortly after, because the next thing he knew, two figures were standing over him. One, a tall metal man painted in red and gold, and the other, a smaller woman with a shock of dirty red hair, and wearing a ripped black suit. Didn't he know people like that? The woman knelt in his line of sight. She was saying something, but her words quite literally fell on deaf ears. Clint smiled and exhaled at his own humour. Clearly, the woman didn't find it very funny and turned to address the metal man. He wished he knew what they were saying. When the woman turned back to him, she began to flail her hands around in a seemingly practiced motion. The woman repeated the pattern three times until Clint realised that it was sign language.

_Can you understand me?_

Clint twitched his fingers, ready to respond when pain flared in his right arm. Still buried, he thought. He nodded instead.

_Stay still. We are working on getting you out._

Clint nodded again. The woman remained at her side and they locked eyes. Her hand rubbed against his cheek, her thumb tracing across the base of his eyelid. His sight cleared for a brief moment, just enough to recognise the woman before him, until the throbbing in his head caused his vision to waver once more. 'Ntsha.' He hoped he was able to get the words out. When a hand squeezed his own in response, he smiled and relaxed into the growing darkness.

* * *

Natasha stood in the hallway outside the medical facility, arms folded, and head held high. If any of Stark's employees were to walk by, they wouldn't see past her Black Widow demeanour, but the rest of the team knew better than to trust her outwardly emotions, especially when Barton was involved.

'Natasha, you should be resting,' Bruce said. 'You still have a concussion. If you just sit in the common room, the nurse can-'

'I appreciate your concern, Bruce, but I'll be waiting here.'

Ever since they rushed back to the tower, Clint had been taken straight to medical with a long list of problems. His legs had been so mangled there wasn't an inch of skin spared from the bloody mess. The elbow of his left arm was twisted at an odd angle; the medical team was surprised the bone hadn't torn through flesh. The nasty gash in his head was the most concerning; they wouldn't know the extent of the damage until he regained consciousness.

'I'm sure he'll be fine,' Bruce said. 'That guy's tougher to kill than a cockroach.'

'I know.' Natasha shrugged.

Bruce sighed and allowed them to fall back into silence. Were all SHIELD agents as stubborn as these two? If Natasha wouldn't be willing to hold up a conversation, the least Bruce could do was stand by her side until news of her partner would reach them.

Minutes turned into hours before a nurse finally appeared. The whole team had gathered in the hallway, trepidation sparking in their eyes as each member stared her down.

'Umm… We are cautiously optimistic that Mr Barton should make a full recovery. There was some extensive internal bleeding that worried us; we'll need to keep him here for a few days to make sure there are no further complications. If everything goes smoothly, he should be able to start physical therapy within the week.'

'What about his head?' Stark said.

'Our scans indicate that it's nothing more than a flesh wound, but we will keep a close eye on it for the remainder of his stay. He's being moved to recovery as we speak, you can sit with him if you'd like.'

The team nodded their thanks and, with Natasha taking the lead, they quickly paced back down the hallway.

* * *

It was well into the evening before Clint so much as stirred. Most of the team had since fallen asleep, leaving Bruce alone to his thoughts. Thor was resting on the floor, his back leaning against the foot of the bed. Steve sat by a small table, head lying over the back of his chair and legs stretched in front of him. Opposite him, Tony slept with his head in his hand. Natasha had curled up in a chair next to Clint's bedside, positioned so perfectly that she had a clear sight of her partner and the exit, and Bruce could see her hand clenched around the knife strapped to her waist. He sat the other side of Clint, glasses on and book in hand.

A near inaudible groan grabbed his focus. Clint's eyelids fluttered before opening completely, and he scanned the room with a hint of confusion. Bruce placed his book on his lap and squeezed Clint's uninjured arm to get his attention. He pulled his arm back and signed, the lessons he'd been taking from Natasha finally paying off.

_Before you start to panic, yes you will be able to fire your bow again, with time._

Clint exhaled and slowly rolled his head to his left side. It took a moment for the information to register in his brain, and when it did, his breathing hitched. His arm was tightly plastered, restricting all movement. He tested the range of his other limbs, only to find his legs in a similar condition. His breaths were coming too rapidly, and a coughing fit was quick to take over.

Bruce placed a hand on Clint's chest and eased him back into the bed. He reached for the bedside table and grabbed the civilian hearing aids Clint used for emergencies. He placed them in his ears and waited for him to adjust to the sudden noise input. 'It's going to take some time, Clint, but you will make a full recovery.'

'Right,' Clint said, barely above a whisper.

'The teams with you on this. Between Stark's tech and Natasha and Steve's brutal training regimes, you'll be back to full strength in no time.'

'Is everyone else okay?'

'A little banged up, but otherwise just fine. Take a look around you.'

Bruce followed Clint's gaze as it slowly made his way around the group, ending on Natasha's constrained sleeping position. 'That can't be comfortable.'

'I tried telling them to get some rest, but they wanted to be here when you woke up. Guess you kept them waiting too long.'

'Yeah? Well when they wake up, I'll drag them all to their beds myself.'

'I wouldn't put it past you.' Bruce watched as Clint lowered his head back to his pillow, fighting to keep his eyes open. 'You can go back to sleep, Clint. I'll watch over them for you. And if push comes to shove. I'll let the Other Guy drag them back to bed.'

Clint chuckled and winced. 'Wouldn't want to miss that.'

'I'll have JARVIS record the footage.' Bruce smiled as Clint gradually allowed his eyes to fall shut. He waited for his breaths to even out and carefully pulled the aids from his ears. He placed them neatly inside their case and sat back in his chair. Bruce looked around once more at his teammates and sighed. Another day at the office_, _he thought and returned to his reading.

* * *

**I feel like the ending was kinda rushed, but I really wanted to get this out before I get swarmed with more uni work.**

**Thanks to all the people that have followed/favourited/reviewed so far, it means a lot!**

**See you next week (hopefully)!**


	3. Delirium

**A few days late but better late than never right? Enjoy!**

* * *

**Whumptober Day #3**

_Delirium_

* * *

The back of a hand smacked across his cheek. He should have been concerned when no pain followed.

'Make this easier on yourself, Barton,' a voice said.

Barton? The name sounded familiar. Was that who he was? He closed his eyes and licked his lips, putting all his brainpower into trying to remember. His arms trembled against his restraints.

'We know Fury knows about us. We just want to know how much he does know.'

Who was Fury? His head lolled to one side.

'C'mon, Barton, we're reasonable men. You tell us what we want, and we'll let you crawl back to SHIELD.'

He wanted to tell them what they wanted, maybe then he could lie down and get some rest, but he honestly had no clue what any of these things they were referencing were about. He struggled to get his mouth open and tried to speak. A flurry of incomprehensible mumbles was all he managed.

'You think we gave him too much?' The voice was quieter now, and the tone was different. Was there another person here?

'Dammit,' the first voice said and sighed. 'We'll wait for it to wear off, then try again.'

Wait, don't go, he didn't want to be left alone with his jumbled thoughts. A door slammed. He felt his heart hammering against his chest, was it supposed to be going that fast? How did he end up here? What were all these things he was supposed to know? He desperately wanted to sleep, but his mind and body were running at two different paces and refused to meet in the middle. He just. Wanted. To stop.

* * *

Natasha exited the QuinJet after another successful mission and immediately came face to face with an eye patch.

'You're not usually one to check up on an Agent after a mission, Director.'

'My office, Miss Romanoff.'

This set off warning bells. There was only one reason Fury would steal her time before she could head to debrief; Barton had gotten into a situation… _again. _'Yes, Sir.' She followed him down an array of corridors, up the lift, and exited out onto the top floor. Upon entering the office, Natasha found Coulson hunched forward at Fury's desk, head in his hands. Just what had Clint gotten himself into?

'Another mission go south?' she said.

'Not this time,' Coulson said. He pushed back in his chair and looked to Natasha. Thick bags rested below his eyes and his tie hung loosely from his neck. When was the last time he'd slept?

'What's the situation?' Natasha and Fury joined Coulson by the desk.

'Barton completed the mission he was assigned over a week ago,' Fury said. 'As far as we knew he'd gone back to the farm, until three days ago when Laura called asking when her husband would be home.'

'We found his car outside one of your shared safehouses. His belongings are all still there, security systems still intact.'

'The morning of the fifth, he used his card at a small corner shop. He likely got grabbed on his way back to the safe house.'

'We got anything to go on?'

Fury huffed. 'We have a vehicle leaving the scene that matches with the timeframe, but it was abandoned on the outskirts of New York.'

'So, you have no idea where he is?' Natasha folded her arms, suppressing the urge to punch her boss.

'Not yet, but as soon as we do, you and Coulson are heading out, so be ready.'

'Yes, Sir,' Natasha said through gritted teeth.

* * *

His mind had cleared somewhat. He was definitely sure his name was Barton. There was something else that came before that, but he hadn't quite figured that out yet. The isolation hadn't been as bad as he thought; the quiet had given him time to assess his situation. His right wrist was broken, and he could feel the crunch of bone beneath the restrains when he tried to move. His ribs hurt too. He didn't think any had cracked, but it was safe to say the bruises would last a while. He was also certain there was some foreign substance in his veins that was slowly dwindling. A part of him craved more, maybe then he would hurt less, but he also wanted his mind to stop spinning. He wanted to know who he was, _where_ he was, and most importantly, he wanted to leave.

Two sets of footsteps drew closer and the door creaked open. Barton sucked in a breath. This time he was ready.

'Alright, Barton, let's try this again, shall we?' The voice said. His vision was still too blurry to figure out who the voice belonged to. 'What does Fury know about us?'

Barton forced his mouth open. 'I don't uhh…' How did speech work again? 'I…' He exhaled; this was harder than he thought.

'Jesus, Jensen. How much did you give him?'

He heard a thump followed by a groan. Did someone just get hit?

'You fucking moron. He'll die before we get anything out of him.'

Die? Dying was bad, right?

'Jesus Christ. Miranda!'

The door opened again. This person had much lighter footsteps than the others. 'Yes Sir?' Their voice was a much higher pitch too.'

'Pack up shop. We need to move.'

'What about him?'

'Leave him. I'm sure SHIELD will find his corpse eventually.'

Barton still didn't quite understand what this 'SHIELD' thing was supposed to be? Were they his friends? But wasn't a shield an inanimate object? How was that supposed to save him? Before he had the chance to even contemplate the many questions swirling around his head, something flew towards him. His head snapped back, and a blinding pain spread through his body. The blurry vision was replaced by pure darkness.

* * *

After a long - too long if you asked Natasha - hunt for Clint's abductors, Coulson had tapped into a dashcam of another car. It had barely managed to pick up a shot of the licence plate from the vehicle they'd swapped to, as well as a nasty shot of one of the men dragging Clint's unconscious body across the floor. They'd tracked the car to a long-forgotten warehouse in New York. Natasha released the safety lock on her firearm and nodded to Coulson. He did the same.

'On my mark,' he whispered, holding up one hand. He counted down on his fingers and they charged into the warehouse.

They weren't expecting it to be empty.

'Were we too late?' Natasha said.

'Spread out.'

They split off, Natasha taking the left side, and Coulson on the right. Room after room came up empty. Every now and then he heard a hushed 'Clear' coming from Natasha. The more they searched the warehouse; the bigger Coulson's concerns grew. Maybe they _had _been too late? Had Coulson just lost one of the greatest agents SHIELD ever had? How would he tell Laura?

Coulson turned the handle on the final door, and it opened with a loud creak. When he peered inside, his worries multiplied tenfold. 'Oh shit. Natasha!'

Clint was tied down to a chair, unconscious and shirt missing, displaying a colourful palette of bruises on his chest. The thing that most concerned Coulson was the puffed out, clearly infected, puncture wound in his neck. He rushed to Clint's side and pulled out a small knife from his sock. 'Hey, Clint. Can you hear me?' There was no response.

'Jesus,' Natasha said as she entered. She too, knelt by his side, trying to coax her partner. 'Clint, c'mon. Open your eyes for us.'

'They drugged him.' Coulson nodded to his neck.

Natasha carefully inspected the wound. 'There's more than one puncture.'

'Shit. We need to find out what the hell they gave him.'

'I've checked everywhere. They cleaned the place out. The only thing they left behind was him.'

'Well, then let's hope this drug's already in the SHIELD database.'

A groan caught their attention.

'Clint?' they both said.

Clint's head twitched and, soon enough, one eye opened. His body went rigid and he sucked in a breath as he pulled back from the two.

'Hey, hey,' Natasha said. 'It's okay, you're safe. Do you know where you are?'

'I'm… uhh…' he slurred.

'Can you tell us your name?'

Clint exhaled. 'Buh… Barton?'

'Yeah, that's it.' Coulson smiled at him but gave a worried glance to Natasha. 'You're safe now, okay? We're gonna get you back to SHIELD and flush this crap out of your system.'

'You're sh… SHIELD?' His head dropped to his shoulder, eye already threatening to close.

Natasha nodded. Clint looked to her, staring an uncomfortable amount of time. She followed his gaze and found his eye was glued to her long red curls.

'I… I know you.'

Natasha couldn't help the smile that crept over her face. 'Yeah you do, idiot.' She reached a hand to his head and brushed her fingers through his hair. He relaxed into her hold.

'You ready to lift him?' Coulson said.

'Yeah.'

They grabbed one arm each and wrapped them around their shoulders, their other arm clutched his waist. Coulson counted to three and they pulled him from the chair. Clint made no effort to stand; it wouldn't surprise them if he couldn't feel his legs at all. He gasped for breath as if he'd just completed a marathon, and rested his head on Natasha's shoulder.

Getting him to the car wasn't an easy task. Though he had lost weight during his captivity, his body was still bigger than both Coulson and Natasha. I didn't help that they'd had to carry him from the back of the warehouse. Natasha entered the back of the car and helped haul Clint onto the seat. Natasha placed his head on her thighs, and he curled his body into a ball, clenching a hand around her uniform. Coulson jumped into the driver's seat and they sped off back to base.

'Dammit, Clint.' Natasha sighed, still stroking her hand through his hair. 'How do you keep getting yourself in these situations? Your wife's been worried sick.'

Clint shuffled in her lap. 'Luh… Lau…ra.' His hand loosened from Natasha's clothing, and his one good eye fell shut.

* * *

Coulson rested back in his chair, his longwinded written debrief finally complete. He looked over to Clint, lying motionless in bed. Tubes and wires were attached all over his body, slowly cleansing him of the toxins in his bloodstream. A fever had wracked through his system on the car ride home, and when his heart faltered upon arriving at SHIELD, he'd feared the worst. It was hours until the medical team could safely say that he'd make a recovery. Fury had already sent Natasha back out to search for Clint's abductors and she was more than happy to oblige. That had left Coulson to call Laura with an update.

'He's safe,' he said.

'Oh, thank God,' Laura said, her breath shaking on the other line. 'Is he alright?'

'He will be.'

'Stop being vague Phil, just tell me what's wrong with him. I can take it.'

Coulson sighed and rubbed his forehead. 'He was beaten and drugged. Most likely for information. Don't think he was fully aware of who we were when we found him.'

There was a potent pause before Laura responded. 'Any lasting effects?'

'It's not looking that way. Laura, I promise I'll call you the second he's coherent, okay? He's going to be fine.'

'Okay, okay.' She gasped for breath, most likely crying. 'Thank you, Phil.'

'Don't mention it.' They hung up.

As if on cue, a moan snuck out from Clint's mouth. Coulson tugged his chair closer to the bed and placed a hand on Clint's arm. He was still deathly pale, except for the deep red of his cheeks that almost rivalled Natasha's hair. Coulson placed his other hand on Clint's forehead, and it burned to the touch, his fever wasn't letting up any time soon.

'It's alright, Clint. You're safe now.'

Clint scrunched his face up and opened his eyes. 'B-Barn? You can't be here, Barn. If Dad sees you, he'll hit you too.'

Coulson lowered his head. He was all too familiar with the trauma of Clint's childhood. 'Don't worry about Dad. I won't let him hurt us, okay? You just get some rest. I'll wake you up in the morning.'

Clint closed his eyes and nodded. 'Love you, Barney.'

That broke Coulson's heart. He silently condemned the man that once called himself Clint's big brother; he wasn't worthy of that love. He squeezed Clint's arm in a silent show of support. 'Awh Clint.' He smiled sadly. 'Next time, I'll escort you home myself.'

* * *

**There may be no chapter next week. I'm in Wales with my university so I won't have any internet. I'll do my best to get something out, but no promises.**

**Thanks to all the people that have followed/favourited/reviewed! :)**

**See you in the next one!**


	4. Human Shield

**It's finally out! I went a bit over my usual word count with this one, and I think the opening goes on for a bit too long, but I couldn't resist the Barton family fluff so you're just gonna have to deal with it. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Whumptober Day #4**

_Human Shield_

* * *

Clint gulped down the rest of his cola and dumped it into a nearby trash can. He strolled through the shopping mall hand-in-hand with his daughter, large bags hanging from his elbows. Lila skipped alongside him, swinging their arms back and forth while slurping a slushie. She wore her brand-new dark purple dance hoodie, her name and a silhouette of a ballerina emblazoned on the front.

Clint dug through his jeans pocket and pulled out a small note, the swirly handwriting of his wife scattered on the page. 'Alright, so we've got your hoodie, Coop's sneakers, Auntie Nat's training gloves, Mom's necklace. That leaves us with…

Lila gasped. 'My ballet slippers!'

Clint hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. 'Ah, of course. How could I forget?'

'You're silly, Daddy.' She giggled.

Clint laughed and nudged Lila's shoulder. 'Now remember, we can't spend too much money. We've already gone way over budget. Your mother is gonna kill us when she finds out.'

'_Okaaaaaaay._' She took a sip of her slushie and her eyes lit up with a sudden epiphany. 'Do you think Auntie Nat will come to my next performance?'

'Of course, she will. Auntie Nat loves watching you dance. Why don't we give her a call when we get home and you can tell her about all the things you've learned in class?'

'Yay!' Lila bounced around like a kangaroo high on caffeine.

The two Barton's rounded a corner and the dance store came into view. Lila yanked her hand out of Clint's and charged through the doors. He chuckled and picked up his pace, wedging himself and their bags into the store. Lila's face beamed with an excitement that he only ever saw when Natasha came to visit. Aisles upon aisles of dancewear filled the space, with mannequins positioned in difference stances, displaying the many leotards and tutus they had in stock. Lila bolted straight towards the skirts. She pulled a light blue one down from the rack and twirled it around on the hanger.

'Daddy, can I have this, please?'

'What did I just say?'

'But Daddy!'

'Well, fine then, you can have that, but you won't be getting any new shoes. Which one will it be?'

Lila grumbled. 'Fine.'

'If you want it that badly, you'll have to ask Santa if he'll bring you one this year.'

'Okay.' Lila trudged back toward Clint and together, they walked to the shoe rack.

'Which ones did you need, honey?'

'The pointe sho- _oooooh!' _Lila quickly turned back into her bubbly self when her eyes landed on the different coloured slippers. 'Daddy look at the red ones! Can I have them _pleeeeeeeease_?'

Clint leaned in to examine the price. 'Not too bad. Will Mrs Daly be alright with them.'

'It's fine. Abby has blue ones. Can I try them on?' She stretched her arm up to the rack and jumped when she failed to reach them.

'Calm down, calm down. I'll get them.' He set their bags at his feet and pulled the right size slippers from the shelf. He handed them to Lila, and she skittered off to the nearest stool, kicking her sneakers off as she went. As she tried them on, Clint leaned his head back and exhaled. He hadn't had a day just to him and Lila in… he couldn't even remember. Between SHIELD and the new Avengers Initiative, it was a miracle he got any time at home. A smile spread over his face as he relished the simple family life he'd longed for. His ears caught a quiet commotion coming from the malls lower level and he opened his eyes, turning his attention to the door when Lila's voice snapped his focus back to her.

'Daddy, Daddy, look!' She pirouetted down the aisle and finished with her arms outstretched in perfect form.

'Wow! Someone's been practising while I've been gone. You'll have to put on a show when we get home.'

Lila grinned. 'Yeah!'

'Now take them off so I can pay for them.'

Lila nodded and plopped herself back on the stool, fiddling with the ribbons. Clint almost welled up with pride watching his daughter giddily admire her new shoes. How did he get so lucky to have a daughter like her?

A sudden flurry of bangs broke him from his thoughts, followed by a shrill scream. Before Clint even had a chance to contemplate the noise, another set of bangs went off, making the walls shudder.

'Daddy, what was that?'

He turned back to Lila. He could see the sheer terror in her eyes as she clenched her ballet slippers tight to her chest. He held his arm out towards her. 'Stay here.'

Lila hesitantly nodded and whimpered, taking a small step back.

Clint walked towards the store window, glancing to the clerk who looked almost as worried and perplexed as his daughter. Down the other side of the mall, near the escalator, were two men, dressed in black and holding assault rifles. They aimed and fired, blasting opposite store windows and more screams rang out through the mall.

'Daddy?'

The two men marched through the mall, growing closer to their location. Clint pushed himself from the glass and sprinted towards Lila. 'Get down!' As Clint reached his daughter, gunfire shattered through the store windows. A grunt escaped from the clerk and he dropped behind the desk. Clint launched himself on Lila, wrapping his arms around her. A burst of pressure in his back knocked the two to the ground and he cushioned her head as they hit the tile flooring. As the two lay in stunned silence, he felt a trickle of liquid sliding down his back. _Shit! _He thought. He was shot. He focused all his attention on the entry point and, hiding his movements, checked for an exit wound. There was none. Clint exhaled; Lila was safe. He lowered his head so that he rested on hers. 'Stay quiet, okay?' he whispered. 'Just don't move.'

* * *

Lila could barely see the men over her daddy's shoulder. He'd told her not to move, but no matter how much she tried her body would not stop trembling. The two men continued walking through the mall and left Lila's eye line. She finally sucked in a breath and clenched her daddy's shirt.

'It's okay, honey. I got you,' her daddy whispered again. His head left hers and she snapped her eyes open. Don't leave! She pressed her head against his shoulder. He turned to face the store entrance and Lila closed her eyes again, focusing solely on her choked breaths. A hand brushed through her hair and her daddy kissed her forehead. 'I think they're gone for now.'

Lila let out a sob. 'Daddy.'

'_Shhhh_, it's alright, sweetie. You're safe.'

Her daddy lifted her from the ground and ran them to the back of the store. He wobbled with every step and Lila feared they would fall over. Was he scared too? He pulled back a curtain and set her down on the bench in the dressing room. She curled herself into a ball and cuddled her legs to her chest, attempting to still her body's involuntary movements. Her daddy crouched down to her level and placed his hands on either side of her face, gently brushing away the tears she didn't realise were falling.

'Lila, I need you to wait here for a moment while I check on the store clerk. I'll be right back, okay? Can you be brave for me for just a moment?'

'Uh-huh.' Her mind was screaming, begging him not to leave. But her daddy was a superhero; he was the bravest person she knew. If he was asking her to be brave, as much as she wanted to grab onto him and never let go, she knew she could do it for him.

'Okay.' He kissed her forehead a second time and pushed himself to his feet, grimacing as he went. He turned his back to Lila and stumbled out of the dressing room. Before the curtain closed, Lila caught a glimpse of a red stain soaking his shirt. Was that blood?

'Daddy,' she said barely above a whisper.

More gunfire went off in the distance and Lila yelped. She moved her hands to her ears and dropped her head to her knees. She wanted to go home. She wanted her mommy. She wanted her brother to sit beside her and chase the nightmares away.

It felt like an eternity had passed before her daddy returned. He hobbled through the curtain and dropped to his knees, his head resting on the bench. He placed a hand on her back and rubbed his thumb across the base of her neck, his other hand was covered in red. 'It's okay, honey. I'm here, I'm here.'

Lila slowly lifted her head and her eyes were instantly drawn to the trail of blood coating the floor. She gasped and squeaked. Then the stain on his shirt was- 'Daddy, you're hurt!'

'It's okay, it's okay.' It sounded as if he were trying to convince himself more than Lila. His breaths were becoming more and more ragged and the thumb gliding across Lila's neck came to a stop.

Lila pulled her daddy's hand down and held it with both hands. What would Auntie Nat do if she were here? Her daddy got hurt at work all the time and she always knew how to help him. Whenever she got hurt, her mommy and daddy would put a bandage over the injury to stop the blood. But Lila didn't have a bandage, could she make one herself? She pulled her daddy's hand closer and it rested against her hoodie. An idea burst into her mind. Her hoodie! She jumped down from the bench and sat cross-legged next to her daddy.

'Lil…' he mumbled, turning his head slightly, though his eyes didn't open.

'It's okay, Daddy,' she said. 'I'm being brave like you asked me to.' She pulled at her sleeves and shimmied out of the hoodie. She folded it into a messy ball and lifted her daddy's shirt, recoiling when she saw the injury. There was a hole in her daddy's back. It was a deep red that made Lila want to throw up, and there was so much blood! She took a moment to steady her breathing and pressed her hoodie on his wound. Her daddy groaned and his breathing hitched. 'I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm sorry.' Blood was already soaking into the fabric and her tears threatened to resurface. _No! _she thought. _I have to be brave for Daddy. _She needed to find someone to help them, but there was no one else in the store. Just them and-

'Daddy.' When he didn't respond, she removed one hand from the makeshift bandage and shook his shoulder. He groaned again. 'Daddy, where's the store guy?'

Her daddy said nothing and shook his head. Lila gasped. Did that me he was? She pushed the thought from her mind. That didn't matter now, all that mattered was her daddy.

'Daddy, where's your phone?' She held onto his shoulder and they locked eyes for a moment. Lila was still shivering in fear, but she furrowed her brow and exhaled, putting on the bravest face she could. She almost thought she saw her daddy smile before his eyes moved down to his pocket. Lila nodded and quickly pulled it out, dropping it on the floor. She stared down at her trembling hand in anger. 'Stop shaking!' She clenched it into a fist so tight that her fingernails pierced her skin. She flipped the phone and speed dialled the only number she had memorised.

'Romanoff.'

'Au-Auntie Nat,' she stammered, pulling the phone to her ear.

'Lila? What's wrong, where's your dad?'

'We, we were out shopping and… Daddy's hurt.'

'Is your Daddy there? Can I talk to him?' She sounded relaxed; her daddy being hurt was nothing new to her.

Lila turned to her daddy. His eyes were closed, but not squeezed shut like they were before. It looked like he was sleeping, and he was really pale. 'Daddy?' There was no answer. She pushed down on her hoodie, it would hurt him, but she needed him to do something. He didn't so much as wince. She looked at the floor around them. There was so much red, how could it all be coming out of one person? 'He's not answering, Auntie Nat. He's hurt real bad.'

'It's okay Lila. The important thing to do right now is stay calm. We know where you are. We'll be there soon, alright?'

'We?'

'You remember Uncle Nick, don't you?'

'Uh-huh.' Uncle Nick was coming too? Was he going to stop the bad guys with the guns? The thought eased her worries albeit only slightly. Uncle Nick was super tough; Lila almost felt sorry for the people going up against him.

'We've got a few friends too who are gonna help out, alright?' Natasha said in a tone that oddly resembled her mommy's whenever Lila woke from a nightmare. 'Lila, sweetie, I need you to tell me how badly Daddy is hurt.'

Lila took a deep breath. 'He's got a hole in his back. It was bleeding a lot, so I put my hoodie on it. Is that good?'

'Yes, that's very good Lila, you're doing a great job.' She could hear the pride in her auntie's voice. A door slammed across the line. 'Lila we're at the mall now, we're so close. Can you tell me where you are?'

'You-you know the store that sells the ballet slippers?'

'Yes, your mother told me about it. We're almost there Lila. Everything's going to be alright.'

Lila gave the smallest smile. She turned back to her daddy. 'Did you hear that Daddy? Auntie Nat and Uncle Nick are coming to help us. You're going to be okay.' She probably should have kept talking on the phone, but she couldn't help herself. She placed it on the bench and hugged her daddy, keeping one hand pressed against her hoodie. As long as she kept her eyes shut, she didn't have to think about the blood that was now seeping into her clothing. 'You're gonna be okay.' She reminded herself.

It wasn't long before Lila heard footsteps in the store and her whole body went rigid. _Please be Auntie Nat, please be Auntie Nat, _she repeated in her mind as she tightened her grip on her daddy. The curtain to the dressing room was flung open and a familiar shock of red hair came into view.

'Found you.' Auntie Nat smiled.

Lila stared at her for a moment before all her emotions decided to burst out in one go. Tears sputtered from her eyes and her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to say something, but her mind drew a blank. Instead, she let out a high-pitched wail and dropped her head to her daddy's shoulder.

Auntie Nat was quick to her side, Uncle Nick and a few other people stood behind them. 'Lila it's okay, we're here now, it's over. Will you let my friends take a look at your daddy? They're going to help him.'

Lila tried to speak again, but all that came out was a spluttered cough. She nodded and Auntie Nat swept her up into her arms. She buried her head in the crook of Auntie Nat's neck and continued to weep.

'It's okay, Lila. You're safe now.'

Lila watched as her daddy was lifted onto a stretcher and carted away. She reached an arm out to him and screamed. A hand squeezed around hers and she turned to find Uncle Nick leaned towards her smiling, and Uncle Nick never smiled.

'Hey, Lila. We're gonna take your dad to the hospital so the doctors can fix him up. I'll call your mom and she'll meet you and Natasha there, alright?'

'O-okay,' Lila said between snuffles.

Uncle Nick cupped her face in his hands. 'You were real brave today. Be proud.'

* * *

Natasha sat in the waiting room with an arm wrapped around Lila. Fury had returned to SHIELD; a separate team had been sent after the attackers while they had snuck in after the Barton's. No one at the hospital knew who they were. Clint's patient form was listed as one of the many covers they'd built up over the years. As far as the doctors knew, they were operating on Richard McDermott, and she was nothing more than a worried younger sister taking care of her niece. Lila had stopped crying; she'd stopped doing mostly anything other than blinking and breathing. A nurse had been to see them earlier, offering Lila a fresh set of clothes. Her old ones had been shoved in a black bag, they'd most likely never get the stains out no matter how much they scrubbed. Natasha had wiped her down with wet wipes and disinfectant, and since then the girl had sat still, far too still. Natasha loved Lila, but she had no idea how she was supposed to comfort her. She rarely reacted well whenever her partner was injured, she was actually quite proud of how she'd held herself so far. They had gone hours without any news. It was only a simple bullet extraction and blood transfusion; how long could it possibly take?

A door barged open and Laura hurried towards the pair. Lila looked to her as if she had seen a ghost, and the tears were quick to resurface.

'Oh Baby, you're alright now. Mommy's here.' She lifted Lila and took her place in the chair, nodding her thanks to Natasha as she rocked her daughter back and forth.

Cooper was stood beside them, watching them with sad eyes. He turned to Natasha. 'How's Dad?'

'We'll know something soon, kiddo. Your dad will be fine, I'm sure.'

Cooper nodded and folded his arms. Natasha thought to hug him, but the child had recently started an embargo on human contact, insisting he was too old for 'all that mushy stuff,' and honestly, Natasha couldn't blame him. She was just about ready to punch anyone who would offer her emotional support.

It was another two and a half hours before a doctor finally emerged from the operating theatre. Natasha quickly gestured to Laura to stay put and walked up to the woman herself.

'This better be good news,' Natasha said.

The doctor took a quick glance at the Barton's and lowered her voice. 'I'll be honest with you it was touch and go for a time. He coded twice. However, we were able to get the bullet out without any other complications and he's just coming around from the anaesthesia. We would have spoken to someone sooner but,' she looked to Lila, 'we didn't want to say something until we were absolutely certain he would make a full recovery.'

Natasha nodded. 'Can we see him?'

'I'll take you there now.'

Natasha walked back to the family and crouched down to face Lila, still propped up on her mother's lap. 'You wanna go see your dad?'

The response was immediate. Lila grasped her mother's hand and jumped from her lap, tugging her towards the doctor. They let her lead the way until they were standing just outside of Clint's recovery room. She stared at the door handle and tightened her grip on Laura.

'Honey,' Laura said, kneeling. 'It's okay to be scared. You go inside when you're ready. We're right behind you.'

Lila looked back to the rest of her family. Cooper walked forward and put a hand on her shoulder. 'Together, okay?'

'Together.'

The Barton children both grabbed the handle and pushed in sync. The door slowly swung open and they walked inside, hand-in-hand. Natasha turned to Laura, who was fighting back her own tears.

Clint lay, bleary-eyed but awake, as a nurse fumbled with a monitor. Upon seeing the family enter, the nurse smiled and stepped to one side. Clint looked down to his children and grinned. _They've given him the good stuff, _Natasha thought.

'Hey guys,' he said with a breathy tone.

The kids were hesitant to move any further into the room. 'Dad, are you okay?' Cooper said.

'I'm a little sore, buddy, but I'm gonna be fine.' Clint moved his attention to Lila. The girl was staring at her father with bated breath. Natasha was mentally preparing herself for another breakdown.

'It's okay, honey,' Laura said quietly, urging the girl forward.

'Daddy, you-' Lila tried, but the words wouldn't come.

'Lila, sweetie, you were so brave today.' Clint said.

That was all that was needed to snap Lila out of her funk. She charged to her father's bedside and clambered up to sit at his side. 'Daddy, I was so scared. I thought you were gonna die!'

'It's okay, baby.' He pulled her down, so she was lying against his uninjured side and she wrapped her arms around his neck. 'I wasn't scared though.'

'You weren't?

'Nope. Because I had you by my side taking care of me. That's how I knew everything would be okay.'

Lila gasped and curled further into Clint's side. 'I love you, Daddy.'

'I love you too.'

As Lila started choking up again, Cooper walked to his bedside and held his father's hand, leaving Natasha to comfort a very overwhelmed Laura.

It was months of sleepless nights, bedwetting, and therapy before Lila felt comfortable leaving her father's side again. It was even longer for Clint to move past the guilt he felt for putting his daughter in that situation, but they made it through together and their relationship only grew stronger. Lila had even voiced interest in becoming a doctor. Clint had thought it was a great idea until Laura had shown him how much medical school would cost. When Natasha came back for a visit after another lengthy mission, it was as if nothing had ever happened.

* * *

**There are parts of this that are a bit too wordy but I really wanted to get this out! Hope you liked it!.**

**Thanks for all the favourites/follows/reviews so far!**

**See you next week (hopefully)!**


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